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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710207">cry, cry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rathalos/pseuds/rathalos'>rathalos</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Katekyou Hitman Reborn!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff, KHR Obscure Ship Week, not relevant but i don't care lol she's trans, trans girl chrome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:07:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rathalos/pseuds/rathalos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chrome sits there on the couch with her shoulders hunched up to her ears, sinking into the soft red cushions, until M.M. gets back with a small first-aid kit clutched in her hand.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chrome Dokuro/M.M.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>cry, cry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chrome is It.</p><p>She’d been roped into a game of tag between Fuuta and Fran about fifteen minutes ago, since Fuuta had been complaining of having nothing to do; M.M. had loudly voiced that the two kids had been the ones to suggest going to the park in the first place, so shouldn’t they come up with something to play on their own?</p><p>Chrome hadn’t minded, though. She likes Fuuta. Since they’re one of the few people who are actually able to be a good influence on Fran, she happily indulges their request.</p><p>She chases after Fuuta, gaining on them with every second that passes. When she thinks she’s close enough, Chrome stretches her arm out to tap them on the back—but before she can make contact with them, Fran materializes in front of her and sticks his leg out for her to trip over. There’s no time to change her course—before she knows it, she hits the ground, skidding a couple of inches. Pain blossoms on her knee.</p><p>Slowly, Chrome rights herself, and sticks her leg out in front of her to survey the damage. Thin, bright red lines of blood well up in beads atop the skin of her kneecap. She blinks.</p><p>It doesn’t even hurt that bad, but M.M. crouches next to her side in a flash, glaring at Fran and already launching into a scolding tirade. Fran offers no response, instead staring at the ground with his hands hidden behind his back. He doesn’t have the conscience to pretend to look guilty. Fuuta, standing next to him, also looks chastised, though they didn’t really have anything to do with this in the first place.</p><p>“Come on, we’re going home,” M.M. orders, pulling Chrome to her feet. “You two can fuck off to Tsuna’s house.”</p><p>“Don’t swear,” Fran reprimands. “Chrome said Master curses anyone who says a swear word. He’s listening…”</p><p>“Yeah. He can try,” M.M. retorts, pulling a derisive face. “Scram.”</p><p>“Oh—you don’t have to—” Chrome tries, but M.M. cuts her off before she gets any farther. Chrome shuts her mouth so fast her teeth click together.</p><p>“No. They’re leaving,” M.M. says, tone of voice brokering no room for argument. “Get.”</p><p>“…’Kay,” Fran says. “Gonna make me walk by myself?”</p><p>“We can look out for ourselves,” Fuuta says, tugging on Fran’s sleeve. Most likely a plea for him to quiet down. “C’mon, Fran, we can go play hide and seek with Tsuna-nii.”</p><p>At that, Fran visibly perks up. “Tsuna-nii? My favorite victim.”</p><p>Chrome doesn’t understand what’s so funny about tormenting Tsuna, but Fran likes it well enough, and Tsuna himself always says it’s fine whenever she asks him about it.</p><p>Fuuta leads him off in the general direction of Tsuna’s house, chattering about something-or-other—they’re too far away for Chrome to hear them properly, and she’d feel bad about eavesdropping even though she does harbor a little curiosity about what they’re saying.</p><p>M.M. clicks her tongue, watching the two go. She’s still got Chrome’s hand clasped in her own. Chrome tries to tug her arm away (her palms are beginning to sweat and she doesn’t want M.M. to think she’s gross), but M.M. only tightens her grip, looking back with an inquisitive expression.</p><p>“Need something?” she asks.</p><p>“A-ah, it’s nothing,” Chrome says, trying to match up her footsteps with M.M.</p><p>“If you’re sure,” M.M. says. She turns back around with a loose shrug. “My place is closer, so I’m taking you there.”</p><p>She breaks off and mutters something else under her breath, but before Chrome can ask her to clarify, M.M. picks up the pace, and all her attention is taken up with trying to sync their steps again.</p><p>*</p><p>As soon as they get inside her apartment, M.M. seats Chrome on the plush couch in the living room and disappears down the hall to retrieve her first-aid kit.</p><p>Admittedly, Chrome holds little familiarity with M.M.’s apartment. The walk from her place to M.M.’s takes only about twenty minutes—in theory, it would be easy for her to come over and hang out, but in practice, it’s smaller, and Fran throws a fit whenever Chrome drags him here. As a result, the three of them (plus Fuuta, on the occasions that they come over) spend nearly all their time at Chrome’s apartment.</p><p>Chrome looks around, trying her best not to feel like an intruder.</p><p>The living room exudes a comforting aura, from the trinkets and baubles scattered atop every horizontal surface to the little bowl of hard candies on the coffee table (it gives off a faint smell of lychees; Chrome closes her eyes and breathes deep). Bookshelves line the walls, stacked high with haphazardly-arranged novels; with the exception of a few neat ones here and there, it’s clear none of these books have been placed with more than a passing thought to their organization. Paintings of flowers, fruits, and jewelry adorn what little wall space remains, and one of the furniture looks to be in a matching set.</p><p>She’ss seen all of this before, but she still feels like a stranger.</p><p>Chrome sits there on the couch with her shoulders hunched up to her ears, sinking into the soft red cushions, until M.M. gets back with a small first-aid kit clutched in her hand.</p><p>M.M. wastes no time; she crouches in front of Chrome, unclasping the box and pulling out a disinfecting wipe. Chrome tries not to wince as M.M. braces a hand against Chrome’s knee, briskly wiping the dirt and scraped skin off of her leg.</p><p>On the fifth swipe, M.M. uses a little more force than usual, and Chrome sucks in a breath between her teeth. M.M. puts the wipe aside.</p><p>“Was that seriously enough to hurt you?” she asks, rummaging around for a bottle of liquid bandage. She uncaps it, tapping the brush against the side of the bottle a few times before poising it over Chrome’s knee. M.M. glances up for a second, meeting Chrome’s eyes. “Crybaby.”</p><p>The following few seconds are spent in silence. Chrome honestly doesn’t think much of the insult; that’s par for the course with M.M., and she’s gotten used to the biting remarks as a sign of begrudging affection.</p><p>But as Chrome watches her work, she can’t help the horrible, weighty feeling that she’s being a burden. That she should have gone home and taken care of it herself, that she’s wasting M.M.’s time by forcing her to take care of Chrome. She <em>knows</em> it isn’t true, knows M.M. never does a thing she doesn’t want to, but all the same—</p><p>The next time she blinks, her vision is fuzzy, watery.</p><p>Oh, no. Now she’s gone and done it.</p><p>“Wha—Chrome?” M.M. sighs, lifting the brush from Chrome’s leg and re-capping the bottle. “Ugh. Really? You need me to kiss it better or something?”</p><p>“U-um,” Chrome says, voice wobbling. “I just… I don’t know, um, I—sorry—”</p><p>She blinks again, rubbing her eyes to clear her vision.</p><p>M.M. makes a sound of discontent, sitting back on her heels. “Well, I’m not going to kiss your filthy wound.”</p><p>Gently, she takes Chrome’s hand in her own.</p><p>“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she says conversationally, lowering her head and planting a short, soft kiss onto the backs of Chrome’s knuckles. “But… there. Feel better, or whatever.”</p><p>“Em?”</p><p>“Now go home or something,” M.M. says, looking away from Chrome. The tips of her ears are flushed bright red, and if the warmth on Chrome’s face is any indication, she’s wearing a similar expression. “I, uh, I have to do—stuff.”</p><p>Despite herself, Chrome smiles.</p><p>She knows M.M. isn’t as prickly as she makes herself out to be; even still, this show of affection from her is unusually forward. And, well, Chrome will take what she can get.</p><p>“All right,” Chrome says, standing. She flexes her leg. It really doesn’t hurt all that much. “See you tomorrow?”</p><p>“Y-Yeah,” M.M. responds, still suspiciously unable to maintain eye contact with Chrome. “Tomorrow.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as always i would lay my life down for anyone who comments</p><p>find me on tumblr: <a href="https://takeshiyamamoto.tumblr.com">takeshiyamamoto</a></p><p>this is part of an event called <a href="https://khrobscureshipweek.tumblr.com/">KHR Obscure Ship Week</a> that i'm participating in! it's been really fun so far.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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